The Cure
by whitetiger91
Summary: Sometimes, there's something much better than a cure; Poppy Pomfrey is determined to show Remus Lupin exactly what he needs.


_**This story was written for The Houses Competition, Year 5, Round 1. **_

_**House: Gryffindor**_

_**Class subject: Defence Against the Dark Arts**_

_**Story category: Standard**_

_**Prompt: 5. [Character] Poppy Pomfrey**_

_**Word count: 2469 (Google docs)**_

_**Beta: Seth (White Eyebrow)**_

_**Extra: 'Cures' seems to be the unintentional theme for me this round (and the given 'new beginnings' theme) :') Poppy's age is estimated, her middle name is an ode to Florence Nightingale, and every second scene is a flashback to the same year. Her grandfather reads a tiny extract from Rowling's '****The Tales of Beedle the Bard.'**_

_**Thanks for reading! :) **_

* * *

**The Cure**

"I don't know why you're bothering to help me."

Poppy sighed and finished making the bed. She could hear the sadness in the eleven-year-old's voice, but he should've already known how much she cared for him—it was his fourth transformation there, after all.

"Are you always going to be this difficult, Mr Lupin?" she asked, turning around.

The brunet's cheeks flushed, and he stared at the ground. "Sorry. I know you and Professor Dumbledore are trying to help me."

Her face softened. "You're not a burden, Remus. We're happy to support you, and it's no trouble escorting you to the Whomping Willow each time."

Remus sighed and walked over to one of the beds. Sitting down, he stared at his hands, the dark veins of which were prominent against his pale skin.

"I know. It's just… well, there isn't a cure. You can't help me, not really."

Poppy gave him a small smile. "You're not the only 'patient' I've had to help, you know."

* * *

_**Thirty years ago...**_

"Poppy Florence Pomfrey! We don't run inside!"

Poppy blushed and slowed to a walk. She waited until her mother took off her cloak and gloves, and headed upstairs to the bedroom before running outside.

"Grandpa! We're here," she called, looking around the garden.

She'd expected her grandfather to be hunched over the cabbage patch as he usually was every weekend. He wasn't there, however, nor was he replanting Leaping Toadstools in the small, glass greenhouse. Huffing, she headed back inside the small cottage.

"Grandpa?"

She heard her mother's voice on the floor above, coupled with another low, muffled voice. She quickly climbed up the staircase and peered around the door of her grandfather's bedroom.

"There you are!" she said, grinning when she spotted him in the bed.

Her mother was fussing over him, fixing up his blankets and rearranging potion bottles on his bedside table. Her grandfather was coughing and spluttering, but when he spotted her, he waved her over.

"How's my favourite grandchild?" he asked, helping her up onto the bed.

Poppy giggled. "I'm your _only_ grandchild, silly."

"Ah, but that makes you even more special," he said, his voice wheezy.

Her mother placed her hands on her hips. "Alright, Poppy, let your grandfather have some rest now."

She tilted her head. "Are you tired? Didn't you go to sleep at your bedtime?"

"Poppy—"

"Let her be, Clarice," her grandfather said. "It's nothing to worry about, pet; I'll be right in no time. I'm afraid I won't be able to go out into the garden today, though."

"I should think not," her mother said. "Come on, Poppy."

"Oh." Poppy moved to get off the bed.

Her grandfather pulled her back, though, and looked sternly at her mother. "Let her stay. I may not be able to get out of bed, but that doesn't mean I don't have a backup plan."

He winked at Poppy as he rummaged through a drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a book.

"Isn't that a bit too old for her?" her mother asked.

"What, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard?_ Nonsense. Poppy's seven; she's practically an old woman!"

Poppy giggled again.

Her mother rolled her eyes and picked up some empty potion vials. "Fine, I can see you're both being stubborn. Just don't complain if you feel worse in the morning," she said, leaving the room.

Poppy settled back down as her grandfather opened the book. "Mmm, let's see… I think _Babbity Rabbity_ will be good. Ahem, 'A long time ago…'"

He didn't get far into reading, however, and began to wheeze. The wheezes quickly turned into great, hacking coughs, and his eyes watered.

"Grandpa? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Not to—" He was interrupted by a few more coughs, and he thumped his chest. "Not to worry, pet, just a cough."

"Mummy's right, isn't she? You're really sick."

Her grandfather nodded. "Afraid so." When she looked down, he added, "but that doesn't mean we can't still spend time together. Now, where were we?"

Poppy leant against his chest as he continued reading the story. She tried to pay attention, but all she could think about was her grandfather's illness.

* * *

"What did your grandfather have?"

Poppy looked at Remus. He wasn't watching her, but instead was looking out the Hospital Wing's doors. It wasn't curfew yet, and every time a student passed by, Remus would duck his head.

"COPD: Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. Specifically, chronic bronchitis," she said.

Remus turned to face her, his shoulders dropping. "Oh, not like me then."

"No, he wasn't inflicted with lycanthropy," she said. "But, you both still had things in common."

"Like what?"

"Well, for one, you both sought a cure."

The young boy huffed. "One that doesn't exist for me," he muttered, but Poppy ignored him.

"And another, you both needed company."

* * *

_**...**_

When Poppy visited her grandfather the following weekend, she didn't need to be reprimanded for running. She tentatively walked through the house towards the back door, her heart beating quickly. Both her fingers and toes were crossed that she'd find her grandfather outside, all better, and not tucked in bed.

"Hello, pet, ready to finish planting our Toadstools?"

Grinning widely, Poppy skipped over to the old man, who was waiting by the greenhouse.

"Do I get to water this time?" she asked.

Her grandfather winked. "Of course. No one else could do such a gre—"

Before he could finish, however, he leant over and started coughing. Tears streamed down his eyes as he thumped his chest.

Poppy's own chest tightened, and she looked towards the house. "Do you want me to get Mummy?"

Tears still leaked down his cheeks, but he straightened up and waved a hand. "No, no, she'll order me back to bed."

"You're still sick, aren't you?" she said.

After a few more coughs, he nodded. "Just a little."

She glanced back at the house, where her mother was watching them from the window. Her thin, blonde eyebrows were raised, and Poppy quickly looked away.

"Maybe you should be sleeping," she said.

He shook his head. "Nonsense, I want to garden with you."

"When I get sick, Mummy makes my bedtime earlier so I get better."

"Well, why don't we do something else that will make me better, hmm?" Her grandfather said, smiling again.

She didn't want to get into trouble for not listening, though, and she glanced back at the house. The curtain twitched at the window, but her mother was gone. She turned back to her grandfather, only to see his smile was gone.

"Unless you want to go back inside?"

Poppy shook her head and clung onto his hand. "No! Come on, let's fix you!"

He chuckled softly as he led her to the greenhouse. "Alright, let's find a cure. We may need to grow some healthy vegetables."

* * *

"You disobeyed your own mother? But you're always so—"

Poppy raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Mr Lupin?"

Remus' cheeks reddened again. "Professional, Madame Pomfrey. You're always so professional."

"I should think so. I do agree that rest is vital in allowing the body to heal. It's not the only remedy, though."

"Well, it's no good for me, anyway. No one would want to visit me," he muttered.

Poppy sighed. She knew that werewolves were highly dangerous creatures, even if the people inside them weren't. Werewolves hadn't been accepted into society for centuries, and whilst she wished it were different, they'd likely not be for quite some time. Still, she could not and would not convey such thoughts to him.

"Make sure you put on your cloak. It'll be quite chilly outside and I will not have you catching a cold under my watch," she said, handing him a thick, woollen cloak.

Remus took it begrudgingly. "It won't do me any good. I don't think my kind get colds, and I'm likely to tear this one, too."

She placed her hands on her hips, quite like the way her mother used to, and fixed him with a piercing gaze. "You _will_ wear a cloak tonight," she said, watching as he hastily put it on.

She then turned and walked briskly down the aisle, extinguishing the candles floating between the empty beds. It felt like she was extinguishing any hope Remus had of a normal life. When she reached the bed he was upon again, she saw more clearly just how tired the poor boy looked. There were bags beneath his eyes, and his skin was sallow.

"You'll have to trust me that I know what I'm doing, Mr Lupin," she said, giving him a small smile. "I was able to help my grandfather, after all."

* * *

_**...**_

"No, grandpa, no dessert until you eat your veggies," Poppy said, pushing the treacle tart away from him.

Her grandfather stuck his tongue out. "Yes, Miss Bossy Boots," he said, picking up his fork and stabbing it through a squash.

Poppy screwed her nose up as he took a big bite. The steamed, yellow vegetables were even worse than Brussels sprouts. Even so, she smiled when her grandfather swallowed it because it meant that he would get better.

Sure enough, when all the vegetables had been cleared off his plate, her grandfather stretched and stood up.

"Now that was delicious. I think it's time we go play outside, don't you?" he asked her.

She grinned, her blue eyes shining bright. He was better! The cure seemed to be working!

"I don't really think that's a good idea," her mother said, clearing the plates. She then walked over to Poppy and began to braid her long, dark hair. "You need your rest."

"Nonsense! I'm fine. In fact, I'm well enough now that I can dance a little jig!" Her grandfather stood up and danced around the kitchen, beckoning Poppy to join him.

She shrugged out of her mother's grasp and held onto his large hands, allowing him to spin her around the kitchen.

"Dad—"

"It's alright, Clarice. Just let us have this moment," he said.

* * *

"So, you found a cure after all," Remus said. "Just eating healthy?"

There was a small spring in his step as they headed out of the Hospital Wing and down the corridors. He looked at her, a spark of hope clear in his green eyes.

Poppy sighed. "Not exactly. Vegetables did help, but there were other things. He had many potions and, with help from my mother, we researched some new medications that'd only just been made available to the public."

"So… there could be a cure for me, then? I just need to research a bit more?"

She paused at the Entrance Doors and fixed him with a level stare. "There is always hope, Mr Lupin, always. But, as I discovered, there is something much better than a 'cure.'"

* * *

_**…**_

"Grandpa! We're here!"

Poppy ran out to the garden, excited to see him. They had spent the previous weekend at the seaside, collecting shells and pretty pebbles to decorate their garden. She couldn't wait to set them up.

When she looked around, however, she saw that he wasn't outside. Quick as a flash, she ran back into the house and headed straight upstairs to his bedroom.

"Grandpa?" she whispered, slowly opening the door.

"In here, pet."

Her grandfather was lying in bed, his cheeks red and breath rattly. As he sat up to greet her, he began coughing violently. Her mother swept past her into the room, a wet cloth in her hand. She pressed it against his sweaty forehead and rubbed his back.

When he stopped coughing, he patted the bed. Poppy looked at her mother, who sighed but didn't reprimand her, and hopped onto the bed.

"You're still sick."

He nodded. "Just a little."

Poppy's bottom lip wobbled. "Oh. So, I didn't cure you then?"

Her grandfather shifted over so that she could snuggle against him. "No. I'm afraid that even the most experienced Healer won't be able to cure me."

She looked down. Her eyes felt heavy, and when she blinked, they welled with tears. She couldn't believe she hadn't been able to cure him; she'd done everything right.

"It's alright, pet," he said and picked up her hand.

Poppy looked at him through watery eyes. "It's not. I wanted to be a good helper."

"You were, oh, you were. You did something much better than cure me."

"What?"

He gently wiped a tear off her cheek with his wrinkled finger. "You kept me going. You never gave up on me, and it made every day worth fighting for." He stopped speaking to cough for a bit, before adding, "Your company is worth more than a cure."

Poppy picked up the cloth that had fallen onto his chest and dabbed his forehead. "But you're still sick."

"Yes, but I'm happy," he said, smiling, "because I have you."

The tears clouded her eyes, but somehow, she didn't feel quite as sad.

* * *

"So, you didn't cure him, then? He was still sick?"

Remus kicked a rock as they walked across the dark grounds. His eyes kept darting from the castle looming behind them, to the clouds scattered above. The moon wasn't at its full power yet, but it wouldn't be long before it was.

"He was, and he didn't get physically better in the end."

"Oh."

Poppy held out a hand to stop Remus. He looked up at her, his eyes wide, and pointed at the moon.

"It's almost—"

"It's okay, Mr Lupin, we still have time. It's important to me that you understand what I'm trying to tell you. No, I didn't cure my grandfather, but I was still able to give him something he needed: company. I don't think he would've survived as long as he did without having someone there trying to make his life as normal as possible."

Remus swallowed. "Madame Pomfrey, I can't share—"

She shook her head. "You don't have to tell anyone your secret, but you don't have to shut everyone out, either."

His eyes darted back to the castle, where light still shone from the windows. Poppy reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her.

"Trust me. You'll have a much better time here with friends by your side," she said.

Remus took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll think about it."

As the clouds parted, he marched off towards the Whomping Willow. Poppy followed and assisted him in safely crawling inside the tunnel beneath the tree. Then, turning on her heel, she marched back towards the school.

She wasn't sure if Remus understood the power of facing a difficult situation with someone else, but as she reached the school doors, a howl ripped through the grounds. The howl was free from the usual pain it contained, and she smiled; somehow, she knew he'd be okay.


End file.
